Gently Go
by BajaB
Summary: Harry's back on the ghostly platform where he last spoke to Dumbledore.


_A rather strange idea that popped into my head one day and I finally got around to writing._

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_Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all related materials are the property of J.K. Rowling,Bloomsburyand Warner Brothers. I am in no way affiliated with JKR,Bloomsburyor Warner Brothers, and use their materials without their permission or knowledge._

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Harry slowly walked into the bright light, and suddenly found himself again standing on a mist-covered platform 9 and ¾.

"Well this is unexpected," he said aloud to himself.

"Surely you must have wondered, Harry, in your many long years, whether you would return here once more?" asked a long forgotten voice from behind him.

Harry smiled happily and turned to face the speaker.

"Professor Dumbledore," he said with true joy. "It's good to see you again, Sir."

Dumbledore returned Harry's smiled as he approached, appearing out of the mist as if he was becoming more substantial with each step forward.

"I think that there is no need to call me Sir anymore, Harry," the professor said. "We are, after all, both old men now."

"You'll always be Sir to me," laughed Harry. "And I don't feel very old at the moment."

In fact, Harry felt positively sprightly. Not quite as young as the seventeen year old he was the last time he stood in this ghostly netherworld, but definitely not his 'real' age of 104. He did not even have a beard anymore, and that felt more than a bit strange.

"Indeed," agreed Dumbledore solemnly.

Harry resisted the sudden impulse to ask 'How have you been?', since it was probably a bit insensitive to ask that of a person long dead.

"What do we do now, Sir?" he asked instead. "Are you here to escort me; to take me on to the next great adventure?"

"Ah, so you have so quickly decided that this is real then, and not just 'all in your head'?" asked Dumbledore in a light, teasing tone of voice.

Harry laughed again.

"No, Sir, but as you pointed out, it doesn't really matter, does it? I am here, you are here, and even if you are a figment of my imagination, we are both still here."

"I see you have gained some measure of wisdom," said Dumbledore.

"A little," said Harry, modestly. "Just enough to know how foolish I really am."

"And that makes you far wiser than many legions of sages, my boy, but I do have a purpose, as I did the last time. I am here to again offer you a choice."

A younger Harry would have been stunned, and confused, but this Harry was not.

"How interesting," he said, noticing his voice deepening, as if he was becoming older. "Go on."

"You are, at this very moment, slowly dying in your sleep," said Dumbledore, his tone making the news as gentle as possible. "But magic is a wonderful thing, and though you so wisely decided not to wield the power of the relics you possessed, they are intimately bound to your magic, indeed, your very soul."

Harry sighed with all the weariness of the old man he was, and decided to take a seat on one of the long benches running the length of the platform.

"You are already aware of this?" asked Dumbledore, taking in Harry's apparent lack of surprise.

"I could always feel them," explained Harry. "Even though I never used the Elder Wand or the Resurrection Stone again, and even after I gave my cloak to James, I could always feel their magic, their power, calling out to me. I tried to ignore it and not think about it, but it was always there, in the background."

Dumbledore's eye shone with unshed tears of pride, and he moved to take a seat next to Harry before continuing.

"And still you chose not to reach out and take them. I wish I had been half the man you were, Harry."

"So what does it mean?" asked Harry. "How does this give me a choice?"

"You can go on," said Dumbledore, indicating a ghostly white Hogwarts express now visible as it waited a short distance off. "Or, you can go back."

"Back? To life?" asked Harry. "I can choose not to die again?"

"In a manner," said Dumbledore.

"In a manner? What, as a ghost or something?" asked Harry aghast. "That would be terrible."

In all his years, he had never come across a ghost who was happy to exist in that state. It was not something he could ever imagine wishing.

"No, Harry, not as a ghost. You see, you cannot go back to your life as it is now, but you could go back to a different life."

"Now you are just confusing me," said Harry, swinging his suddenly short legs backwards and forward under seat the way a child would. "You were always good at that."

He realised then that he was now much younger than he had been at the start of the conversation, or even a few moments ago.

Dumbledore graced him with another grin, his eyes twinkling with delight.

"Have you ever wondered if there was more than the world you know, Harry? Have you ever thought that Mrs. Weasley-Granger and her theories about the Veil of Death might actually have some substance to them?"

"The Alternate Reality Hypothesis?" asked Harry, frowning in thought.

It had been over seventy years since Hermione had studied the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries and come up with several possibilities regarding Sirius's fate, including her favourite possibility that it was a one-way gateway to another universe; an alternate reality.

Nothing substantial had ever come of those ideas though, and eventually she moved on to more productive areas, and more children.

"Her research was quite intriguing," admitted Harry. "She demonstrated the way magic warps the reality around it, and the more powerful the magic, the more reality bends. Then she managed to prove that the Veil is one of the most powerful artefacts in the magical world."

Harry paused.

Dumbledore said nothing, but continued looking at Harry expectantly.

"Hermione's idea was that the Veil was originally constructed as a gateway to another world, but it in fact pushed through to another reality instead, and the establishing of that portal released enough energy to kill all of the wizards who made it, and destroy the city they were in as well. When other wizards investigated the accident site, they found 'holes' in reality and could see through to other worlds. In some of those worlds, they saw themselves, or versions of themselves, looking back at them."

Harry smiled, imagining how those ancient wizards must have felt, if that was really how it happened.

"Eventually the holes 'dried up' and only the one inside the Veil remained, but nothing could be seen through it, and nothing that goes in ever comes out again. Hermione believed this is because the Veil is linked to all realities, not just one, and that it could possibly be controlled somehow, given enough power."

"I see Mrs. Weasley-Granger never lost her ability to impart knowledge to you with more success than any of your former professors could ever hope to," laughed Dumbledore approvingly.

Harry giggled, suddenly finding himself even younger than a moment ago. His legs barely touched the ground now.

"She was still bossy too," said Harry, managing perfectly to sound a bit petulant, despite his wide grin.

Then the smile slid from his face.

"Right up to the end," he added after a pause, suddenly feeling very sad, and old, so very old.

"But enough of that," he said, stroking his newly returned and very familiar beard in a well established habit. "Are you suggesting the Hallows are powerful enough to do that, to control a link to other realities?"

"What if that is the case?" asked Dumbledore seriously. "What if you could choose a different reality, one where time had passed more slowly, but is otherwise identical to what to you recall? What if you could step through and become part of that world, but many years in the past?"

"Like using a super time-turner," said Harry. "But without fear of creating a paradox, because I am not coming from the future of that world?"

"Yes," answered Dumbledore. "Or perhaps you could find a reality where your parents live, where Voldemort does not exist? Or maybe even a reality where you may express your youthful feelings for young Miss Granger, instead of deferring to your friend?"

Harry said nothing, his mind deep in thought.

"Would I still be me? Would I remember everything?"

"I can see no reason why you would not," said Dumbledore. "Even if you were to take the place of another version of you, or fill a gap left by your absence in that world, your memories and thoughts would still be yours, and what are we but a collection of memories and thoughts attached to a soul?"

They sat silently for a time, both of their long beards swaying in an occasional breeze as the mist swirled around them.

"No," said Harry after an interminable amount of time.

"No?" asked the old professor, raising an eyebrow in query.

"No. I won't do it."

Dumbledore looked surprised.

"Do you harbour no regrets then, Harry?"

"More than a few," agreed Harry, nodding.

"Do you not want to right some wrongs, fix some of the mistakes you and others made?"

"More than almost anything," said Harry.

"Then why would you forgo this opportunity?"

"Because I've had my turn," said Harry. "I've done my dash, and it's time to move on. Anything else would be a betrayal of the people I've left behind, and those who went before me."

"But you will be changing nothing that has already been," argued Dumbledore. "Everything that was, will still be."

Harry shook his head.

"To go back, even if it is a different reality, would make all of my decisions, and the decisions of everybody else, worthless. I would be saying they were not good enough, that all of the work and all of the sacrifices we made are nothing to me.

"I've had my chance. I don't know if I made more wrong decisions that right ones. I don't know if I made many people's lives better or worse, or if I made any difference at all. Hell, I don't even know if I made a good husband, father, or grandfather.

"What I do know, what I am absolutely sure of, is that I don't want to find out. I don't want to know how badly I messed up. I don't want to have every fault, every mistake made obvious to me.

"If I do this, if I 'have another go' and do better, or maybe worse, it can only make me regret my mistakes and lost opportunities even more. What then? Maybe I'll get another chance after that, and I try again, to make up for those times I dropped the Quaffle. Then maybe again after that, or maybe I'll be too worn out and just give up.

"I'll not be that man, Albus," said Harry, standing up, the weight of his age sliding off him. "I have many regrets, but I have lived with them, and now I will die with them too."

"Are you sure?" asked Dumbledore, also rising from the bench.

"No," laughed Harry, reaching up his suddenly stubby little arm to take the old professor's hand. "Not really, but let's do it anyway. Let's catch the train one more time."

Dumbledore smiled and squeezed Harry's hand.

"Very well, my boy," he said, eyes twinkling merrily.

Then the pair turned and walked towards the train's doors. White curling smoke from the engine began to thicken around them, obscuring everything.

"Will Ron be in there?" asked Harry, his child's voice echoing out of the mist. "Is he waiting for me?"

"I do not know, young Harry. I do not know."

"I think he will be," said Harry, with all the unshakable assurance of an eleven-year-old boy.

And Harry Potter passed away into the night, a gentle smile on his ancient face.

**Finite Incantatem**

_Thanks again to the guys at AFC for their comments and help._


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